


Unnoticed

by MarjorieAlyss



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Suicide, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 14:08:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3123032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarjorieAlyss/pseuds/MarjorieAlyss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England was breaking and though it was obvious no one noticed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. England

A five year old Albion grabs onto the end of his ten year old brother Alba's cloak, refusing to let go.

"Don't go." He pleads uselessly. Knowing that there was nothing he could say to convince his eldest brother not to go into battle with his people. The red head turned and looked at him with hard eyes the same emerald shade as his own before sighing and kneeling down to the younger's eyelevel. Albion clings to him, tears forming in his eyes as he begs for the elder to stay but to no avail. Alba separates himself from his youngest brother and holds him at arm's length, staring into the wet emeralds before him with loving eyes that won't reach the five year old.

The years since the Roman Empire had captured their mother had left little time for the caring, fun, laughter filled relationship that had once existed between them. It had been so long since anyone had time for the youngest Kirkland child.

So long since there had been someone there to dry his tears and bandage him up when he falls.

So long since someone had reminded him that his name was Albion, not Runt or Brat or any number of the insults that had suddenly become the only things he was left identify himself with.

So long since he had heard anyone say that he was loved.

"I'll be back, don't worry." Alba says, though it does little to soothe the fears that had built up over time in the little one's mind.

"Promise?" Albion asks, desperate for some kind of anchor to hold their destroyed family together.

The question rings in the air unanswered for a minute before Alba answers…

"… Promise … "

But it was too late. That minute was one minute too long…

… And the damage it had brought to the blonde's mental state was irreversible…

… Not that anyone noticed.

\- PAGE BREAK -

Albion, still in the body of a five year old, struggles uselessly to free himself from the Roman soldier holding him there. Not caring that the monster was clamping down on his arms with a force strong enough that bruises are already forming on his arms.

He doesn't mind the pain.

At this point it is something of a constant in his life…

…. Something he deserves.

Not six feet from his mother and he can do nothing to save her from that man.

He is forced to watch. Not even allowed to divert his eyes as that man plunges his sword through her heart and she coughs up blood for a moment before slumping over…

… Dead…

And left alone with her corpse there was no one around to notice his tears.

-Let's take a break to sob our hearts out -

A six year old Britannia stands at the top of a hill looking down at the blood bath around him. His eyes focusing when he sees them…

His royal family…

… Boadicea and her daughters…

Dead. Lying there in the rain and a pool made of their own blood. His heart breaks and he falls to his knees sobbing until he passes out from the battle beginning to effect his body.

Later he will wake up in his bed at that man's castle.

Later he will decide to never again become attached to a human.

And that is exactly what he does…

… Locking away his emotions so well he will never again truly know the experience of such things.

But it doesn't matter as once again…

… No one noticed.

\- Page break anyone? -

A thirteen year old Arthur Kirkland sits in the shadows of the inquisition's courtroom watching with dread in his eyes…

… He already knew her fate.

And though he hated her for being what he could not…

… Loved, human, French, mortal, female, beautiful, full of emotion, HIS…

He couldn't bring himself to wish her fiery demise; even he could see how special she was.

And he loathed her for it. But burning her as a witch wasn't something he wanted. He wanted to hate her from afar…

… Just as he loved him.

The entire day she was to burn he was missing.

When she died he was on his knees at the church begging for forgiveness from France and a God he would later claim to belong only to humans.

Both of them withheld it from him.

Once the fire had cooled and everyone had gone away two white roses appeared on her pile of ashes.

The existence of which were about as noticed as the one who placed them there…

… Important to no one…

-See the page break? -

He should have never trusted him. Never opened up to another being.

Hadn't he learned his lesson before? Doesn't everyone he allows close to him die or disappear?

Apparently he hadn't learned it yet.

The rain poured down mercilessly on them.

And everyone knows the story from there it seems. How big bad England tried to kill poor defenseless America and failed…

… But does anyone remember England after the colony he put his heart and soul into rising abandons him alone there on the battlefield? Does anyone notice just how badly this whole war has affected him, not just as a country, but as Arthur Kirkland?

Nope.

\- page break? -

Four years of fighting and still his "Imaginary Kingdom", as everyone is so keen on calling it now, was in dangerous peril.

It was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down around him.

The bloody battles left both sides at a loss as to who was truly winning. Most were unsure of why they were even still fighting each other.

Eighteen year old England shoots at anything that moves now. The saying 'Kill first ask later' having become his entire world back in World War One.

When he shoots his older brother in the leg while they find themselves alone together in the woods he can't help but think everyone is right…

…The time for Kingdoms have come and gone…

He was no longer needed and NEVER had he been wanted.

Without really thinking about his actions he offers Ireland a cease fire. Not even bothering to put up his mask enough to feign an ounce of caring about anything going on around them.

The last thing that flashed on Ireland's face before England shoots him through the heart without remorse or hesitation was surprised shock at the look of complete indifference on the face of his youngest brother as he looked at him straight in the eyes with cold yet uncruel guarded emerald eyes and pulled the trigger.

His insanity goes on seemingly unnoticed and definitely untreated.

After all…

… Who would Ireland tell that would believe him?

No one…

-I'm a pretty pretty Page Break -

The last straw was in 2012 when Scotland declared he was preparing for a referendum.

Scotland hadn't even had the courage to tell his younger brother in person…

… Not after England's history of reactions to similar news. Instead he simply called the house at a time he knew it would be empty and left a message on the machine.

Thus when Arthur collapsed to his office floor there was no one around to stop him from taking the knife Scotland had attacked him with during his last 'visit' out of a desk drawer and take a slash at his wrist viciously.

Trying and failing to feel any emotion at all.

Later that day France shows up at the house and England realizes…

He truly feels absolutely nothing.

Even the numb feeling he felt whenever he saw the French since Francis had proposed to him simply to get his country out of debt had disappeared.

He truly felt nothing at all.

Emotion, temperature, hunger, when basic human needs had been left unmet, pain…

… Nothing.

And though England could tell France was looking for something he couldn't bring himself to care at all.

In the end France went home seemingly satisfied with their encounter and England sat up burying himself in paperwork he couldn't personally connect to the contence of all night.

For the next two years Arthur could tell everyone around him was watching him like he was a quality piece of prey. Waiting for him to crack. To fall apart. If he had been able to leave his vacant shell for even just a moment, though he rather liked the blissful feeling of the nothingness, he would have laughed at them for it…

…Hadn't they noticed he was already broken beyond repair?

No, of course not…

…. And the scars on his wrist kept getting worse…

-Last Page break for now-

Twenty-one year old Arthur Elizabeth Kirkland stands in his favorite study wearing his regular green military uniform scratching at already heavily bleeding forearms. His emerald eyes roam around the office, taking in the pictures around him. Smiling expectant faces stare at him and his eyes come to rest on a painting of him standing in front of one of the many forests that reside in the Isles. But it isn't his smiling form that captures him…

… Standing behind the painted version of himself is Scotland, his arms wrapped around the painted Arthur accusing him of ruining their perfect world, smirking at the artist with his usual dangerous and wild air about him.

Arthur hold the Scott's painted emerald gaze full of amusement with his own emotionless blank stare. Raising the old hunter's knife that had once upon a time belonged to a ten year old red head that had loved a five year old blonde unconditionally, he drives it through his heart without breaking eye contact. For a moment he remains on his feet before coughing up blood and dropping to the ground.

And at 3:00 AM on Thursday September 18th, 2014 the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland dies. Leaving behind the brothers of a five year old boy to be free from the monster this world had created once and for all.

And for one final time…

…. No one notices.

For life is only a fairy tale and everything is black and white. Good is good, evil is evil, the victory is won by the hero and the enemy is destroyed. But does every fairy tale truly end in happily ever after?

Is everything TRULY black and white?


	2. Scotland

Slamming down the phone for the 105th time that morning I swear under my breath as I turn and smile at the human government members gathered for my Referendum; trying to keep up my mask as I have since Seamus had come to me after he had won his independence from England. At first I had brushed off his worries over our youngest brother but once the seed had been sown it wouldn’t go away.

After all, I hadn’t seen my beloved wee Albion in far too long. Visiting however had simply reminded me of why that was and in the end I had launched myself at him hunting knife in hand. After that I had kept my distance, convinced that my baby….

….For Albion was mine; I had raised him in Mother’s constant absence. She had been a great Mother but she was also a country’s personification. Once I, as her eldest, had been old enough to care for my brothers she had been around less and less. When Albion was born she hadn’t even stayed with us for the rest of the moon cycle before leaving. We doubt that Albion even remembers her now…

…..would be better off without someone around that drew a knife on him for only a few unpleasant but harmless comments.

He would be better off without ME.

Despite Eire’s strong advisement against it, when my government once again decided to try for complete separation from the United Kingdom I didn’t fight it in the least. Unlike Eire who had fought his leaders tooth right up until they had signed the documents separating us I couldn’t hold my own against my government. Besides, they had made a point when they argued that I was simply holding my brother back from his full potential. That was why I didn’t believe Eire’s account of what had happened in the woods that day even if Albion refused to tell me about any of it.

Albion had always been the strong unbreakable realist of the four of us Kirkland brothers. There was no way he could be unstable. Especially without one of us noticing…

…Right?

Seamus and Dylan look at me with worry in their eyes though Seamus’ also has an I-told-you-so vibe to them. The humans simply look annoyed when one of them makes a loud comment about how it is obvious Arthur is wasting their time being in denial and how she was happy they wouldn’t be represented by such a useless irresponsible personification anymore I simply blow up.

“What the bloody hell would you know about Albion huh?! I’ll have you know he has been the first one at those bloody useless meetings we hold for you ungrateful gits by hours since the very first one was held! The only times he didn’t attend were because we ourselves personally went to his house and physically stopped him from doing so! He has all the paperwork needed to run four countries done a week before they are needed if not before it is even brought up! He single handedly formed an empire that lasted for CENTURIES raising a third of the world’s countries BY HIMSELF all but that bambot American have turned out amazingly! Even America turned out well considering he became a super power! He puts you bloody fools before him and his feelings whenever he makes a decision! DO NOT INSULT MY ALBION YOU FUCKING CUNT!” I scream at the top of my lungs while fighting my restrainers wanting to bash the bitch’s head in.

I should have gone to his house instead of waiting around mine the last few days. Made sure he understood that even though I was breaking away from the United Kingdom politically I was still his older brother and would still look out for him as much as I could.

Made sure he knew that I loved him and wasn’t leaving him.

I still remember that day I came home to find him gone, and the last thing I had told him while he was still MY baby…

I walk the last leg to my family’s cottage bleeding and half dead. The only thing that kept me going was the knowledge of how happy Albion will be when he sees I’m alive and have come back to him.

The first things I notice when I get close to the house are that it was too quiet and looked overwhelmed. As if Albion hadn’t cleaned up after our brothers in a while.

The look on Wales’ face when he opens the door for me says it all…

… One of them had been captured.

I rush past him into the house calling for my baby brother and when that turns out to be no good I try the woods.

When I get to Albion’s favorite clearing, the clearing I had just begun to teach him how to use a bow in before I had to focus my attention on protecting everyone, to see Seamus sitting there crying I collapse and begin sobbing. The last words I had unknowingly left him to find the strength to take him through Roman control in repeat over and over again in my mind.

“Besides, a weakling runt like you wouldn’t be able to survive without me protecting you.” I had meant for it to be a joke, a reassurance that I would never leave him to that cruel monster…

… I had probably just condemned him to a long painful death alone.

I had been so confident that would be the last time I left him with such negative words. Obviously I was wrong since this time my last words to him face-to-face were that he was a useless waste of space and that he needed to get off his high horse for one bloody second and live down here with us in the real world. Then I barried one of my old hunter's knives in the floor boards of his office by his head and slamed the door shut behind me as I left.

Yep, I show my little boy I love him ALL the time.

When I finally cool down the humans (minus the queen, I swear she is bloody amazing. I mean she even took my side and I'm not going to be her nation soon. But she treats Seamus the same as the rest of us and he isn't either.) leave to some conference room or another in the palace so that I can "collect myself". Bloody hell I hate most of the human government officials I meet. No wonder Albion is so stuck on our royal family! They're some of the only decent politicians I have met and that's because we raised them ourselves!

She comes up to me and gives me another hug. Longer than the one she had given me when we had first arrived. That one having been interrupted by a different Scottish official. Really, they have no business dictating my life but whatever, fuck them to bloody hell and may they never make it back.

"You three still have keys to Arthur's house right Poppet?" She asks and we all share knowing smirks.

"First one to the car gets to drive?" Seamus offers up innocently and the queen laughs though we know her next threat is not to be taken lightly.

"Hit anything or get even ONE ticket and I'll have you three on your knees begging for mercy you will not receive." We all shiver in fear as we nod.

"Verbally."

"Yes my queen." We all say at the same time, Seamus included, Albion would be proud if we even got him to believe it happened. She smirked and then snorts in amusement.

"Go on then, get out of my sight." She commands and we take off like the hounds of hell are at our heels.

Annoyingly, Wales wins and we have a tame car ride which was solely at only three times the actual speed limit and running four out of every five stop signs. Then we are at Albion's house which is located about an hour and a half from the very edge of London's outskirts. The whole trip takes us about an hour to complete. Knocking on the door and screaming profanities through it fails to draw our Albion storming towards us matching all three of us word for word. After a few minutes we kick the door down, disregarding our keys immediately as Albion's paranoia with locks is semi-legendary among the British isles and it was ninety-nine percent certain he had changed them since we had last been re-issued keys.

Too say the place was deathly silent was an understatement. Knowing immediately something was wrong I take off running, following the bond that will exist between me and the other personifications of the United Kingdom until they sign the documents, followed closely by Wales and Ireland.

Destroying a door we had never been through before, the three of us stop dead in our tracks.

The room seems to be a second, more lived in, study. A comfortable armchair sits behind an old antique desk I immediately place from Albion's captain's courters in his main pirate ship. The fire place that took up most of one wall was filled with old rejected documents, useless notes, half-written letters, and other burnable junk from around the room. A bookshelf full of all different types of books from fairytales and novels to dictionaries and textbooks take up a third wall and the fourth had no furniture. The room was so ice cold we could see our breath even from the doorway and there were no windows. The lighting came from one big unlit chandelier in the center of the room and two lanterns other than the unlit fireplace. One lantern was lit and on the edge of he crowded desk.

The other was lit on a side table next to another stuffed armchair obviously placed for a favorite reading spot. A warm afghan Albion had most likely made himself, though it had Celtic designs on it, was draped over the back.

Pictures were everywhere. On the mantle, the desk, the side able, the wall...

Thousands of eyes stared at us from several different time periods in history. I noticed something I wish hadn't been possible. Especially since at least one of the three of us were in a great portion of them with him...

... Albion was not truly smiling in ANY of the pictures.

In the hundreds that covered the office not a single one showed Albion with that smile that had lit up his entire face when we were younger.

The one that caught my attention the most took up most of the fourth wall and I was happy to finally know where it had gone to. Happier still that it had been made a main feature of what was obviously Albion's sanctuary.

It was a life sized painting of the four of us standing together in front of a forest. It had been painted right after the United Kingdom had been formed, before Eire had left the Union. Albion stood in the center front with Wales to his left leaning his head on Albion's shoulder, arms wrapped around on of Albion'. Looking at the artist with a bored tired look that suggested he would fall asleep there at any moment. Eire stood tall and proud t Albion's right, his piercing glare seemingly trying to murder the artist through willpower alone. This had been because he had overheard the guy talking with one of his aides during a break about how attractive Albion was and that he wouldn't mind 'taping that', to put it in today's terminology. Eire's report of this conversation to me had brought on my own pose. I had been placed behind the three of them as I was the tallest without question. Stubbornly, i had put myself directly behind Albion, bent slightly over so that my chin was resting on his head. My arms wrapped possessively around his waist, holding him in place against my chest protectively. I am smirking at the artist, amused at how quickly he could read that he wasn't getting anywhere near our beloved little brother and at the fear we were instilling in him from our takes on the poses he himself had first described to us. Albion stood in the midst of all this either unfazed or unknowing of the happenings around him.

The artist had done a great job... Maybe a little too great.

Albion stood tall and strong surrounded by the three of us. His arms crossed in front of his chest and his stance screaming the cockiness, power, and confidence that had made the beginning of the British Empire. However, his face was a different story all together. Emotionless emerald eyes stared back in what had back then been perceived as haughty defiance and a smirk-like smile was revealed to be absolutely empty painted on the canvas.

None of this is what has us frozen though.

The credit for that goes directly and uncontroversially to Albion...

... Or should I say his corpse?

Lying on the floor in front of his desk and facing the painting of the four of us was our beloved little brother in a pool of his own blood. He looked as if he had been dead for hours.

Wales crumbles to the floor sobbing and Ireland is visibly shaking. Pain, sorrow, anger, and shame conflicting on his face. I find myself kneeling over my little boy and cradling him in my arms. Clutching his frozen body to my chest and burying my face in his neck after gently removing my own hunter's blade from his heart. Casting it aside disgusted.

Once the tears start they can't stop. And when Eire sees an envelope addressed to all of us on the desk I just know none of us will like what it has to say inside...

... We open it anyway. Because it was his last thoughts to us and we needed to know what they were. WHY someone as loved by the world as him felt the need to end his life so suddenly...

Scotland, Ireland, and Wales,

Forgive me for taking so long to do what the Roman Empire should have. I know you probably don't care so I'm keeping this short. As I am no longer needed in this world to any stretch of the imagination and have certainly never been wanted in it, I have decided to take myself out of it. Again, you probably don't care. More than likely you won't even notice I'm gone. If you see France please tell him that I love him. Since I'm dead now it shouldn't bother him to much to know. Enjoy your freedom.

Goodbye,

England

We stare at the letter, then at Albion, then back to the letter being crumpled in Eire'shands. What had we done? Albion seemed to have thought that no one loved him when that couldn't be farther from the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Everyone! It's been a while since I made any progress in my Hetalia fics so I decided that I would finally finish this one. There is a much shorter third chapter for those who want this to end somewhat happily but this fic originally ends here. I know the Scottish referendum fic faze is probably long over for a bunch of you but I didn't want to leave this story unfinished just because of that. Also, I don't really see this as a Referendum fic anyway since it covers a whole lot of time periods other then that and it really only ends with the referendum... Whatever, I'm just ranting now. The somewhat happy optional ending will be up soon. Reviews are always welcome. Until next time,
> 
> Goodbye!


	3. A Somewhat Happy Optional Ending

The rain that day seemed appropriate.

It was on the new that this was the first time in recorded history that it has rained everywhere on the globe at the same time.The worst of it was in Great Britain where floods were happening all around the tiny island.

But us Nations, we couldn't care less about such things as the weather today.

Every nation was morning the loss of our beloved little Albion and it didn't matter that day that the land was mourning with us or that the humans just couldn't understand what the problem was. Even the Queen was still stuck in the delusion that he would be coming back. After all, hadn't Seamus been shot through the heart? He was still alive so why wouldn't Artie be?

We didn't know how to tell her that suicide cases were different and the body tried to repair itself before death could truly settle in. If it used all it's stores, as it had with Albion, the nation died. If not, they had to deal with quite a few very angry nations upon their return to conciseness.

Albion had been wearing down his stores for years until he had been nearly human to begin with. There was no way he had possessed enough magic in him at that point to heal a stab wound through the heart. Especially with the knife still lodged firmly in place.

I look through the heavy rain at the tombstone marking where we had buried Albion in the middle of his favorite clearing. Away from the judging eyes of the humans and non-locatable to the other nations without our help.

Arthur Elizabeth Kirkland

Died September 18th, 2014

Both needed and wanted by the world forever, we will never forget you Love.Was carved elegantly into the cross shaped stone that was surrounded by his his favorite roses we had planted at the base.

The other nations had all gone into our cottage because they couldn't deal with seeing the grave site anymore or looking at the spelled waterproof picture that stood among the flowers. None of the pictures we had found had pleased us so Japan had offered to use his technology to make one he was sure would.

He had done the job maybe a little too well.

Though that America brat's comment of "Iggy could smile like that?!" Had not been very reassuring.

An 18 year old Albion wearing his punk clothes from the 80's, the expression on his face purely Albion's smile at it's best, sits in his armchair in his living room.

It was perfect. Later we would have to thank Japan for his gift.

A tiny hand grabs the back of my pant leg and I look behind me surprised.

A four year old boy with wild blond hair, large eyebrows, and a pair of the most beuatiful emerald green eyes I have seen in a while stares up at me soaking wet and shivering. His arms come up as if begging me to hold him. Sobbing, I clutch him in my arms so tightly that he squirms slightly in discomfort. This time I wasn't going to let him go...

... Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Everyone! This is the end of Unnoticed so I hope you enjoyed it! As promised I'll be finishing at least one more of my stories before I start anything new. As it is summer my computer availability hours are even stranger then they are during the school year so I normally don't post anything but I was thinking of typing up a bunch of chapters then posting a bunch of it every once in a while instead this year. As always Reviews are both celebrated and taken into account! Until next time,
> 
> Goodbye!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Sorry that it's taken me so long to write another Hetalia fic. Would you believe me if I said that it was because I can't get Spain's personality right? Well I don't seem to be getting any closer to getting it right so I'll probably give up soon and use the piece of junk that I did manage to create for him. Silver lining to this block though is what you just read. I have an idea for a follow up for this if any of you tell me you're actually interested in this.
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> Bye!


End file.
